No 51
by AightZero
Summary: AU, set in modern times. Szayel earns a job as a male model and interests Nnoitora at the audition. Nnoi/Szayel pairing.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Firstly, sorry for not yet having decided a certain title, which should be changed later. Yaoi warning (but not for the early chapters of course XD). Maybe inappropriate words...for it is not my mother language indeed. As I guess I am not really talent in telling stories and this is my first English fan-fic, I hope there will be anyone who enjoys reading it, better leaves me judgement XD

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters.

* * *

It was noisy in the hall even before the audition had already started. Ulquiorra Cifer, the main interviewer, was busy checking the documents, while a pair of chair-warmers lolling beside him were enjoying ogling the fresh male models around and talking to each other frivolously.

Abruptly, the jet-haired man of the two gave a whistle. "I think I want this." following his husky voice got a little more excited.

"Hey, don't be a damn poacher you guy!" the other one who was wearing bright blue hair was obviously turned interested at once. He leaned across the back of the frowning main interviewer to his gossiping buddy and a big grin sparked on his face. "Well...which one did you mean?"

"That one had just passed by...aha, there he is now. You see...Grim? Queer pink head...aha? He smells so good!"

The man in pure while wind coat, slim-figured pointed out was unconscious. As a matter of fact he kept his leisurely stepping along the hall. The crowd were not easily able to prevent such top color from distinguishing the male himself great highly. However, from the staff desks they could only appreciate his back.

"Oh mine...won't you, Nnoi? I can hardly image what have happened to your taste...are you serious? Hahaha...!" one sight caught, Grimmjow Jeagerjaques, the assistant interviewer burst into huge laughter. As long as he managed to stop himself he nearly got a choke, and received a sneer as respond. Then he continued to ask, "Hum...what do you want him for?"

"A boyfriend, of course. " the jet-haired man replied with his only eye narrowed as if he was picturing something in mind. "For one night or more." soon added.

"Come on...I guess you have got as many boyfriends as your funny tooth let out when you smirk like right this moment! Oh never deny that you bastard. I've just watched a strange blonde slide into your gym carrying his stupid blush this morning-"

His skepticism somehow caused sulkiness of the other. But when Nnoitora Gilga was about to derided back, Mr Cifer snapped the bothersome ones down. "Focus on your work from now on please, sirs." He announced with a poker face and both subordinates quit airing their opinions.

Time then began for male models' general audition for the coming Fall/Winter Fashion Week of the annual grand ones. Young, pretty-faced as well as pretty-figured but experienceless men led their lines to wait for everyone's own turns. Ulquiorra projected the corresponding file on his computer screen while a male model catwalked up. The fitness coach-Nnoitora-was to appraise his shape, following by interviewers giving a little communication with the interviewee before their decision of acceptation or not being made on the spot.

To be honest, it was a delight-rewarded job that fresh models could seldom meet. That was why thousands of new faces hurried to compete on the countable opportunity of certain offered twenty.

Nnoitora got bored very soon of this some-kind of silent but nervous work of retelling a man's body value and wanted to push it an end as fast as possible. Apparently he acted much more perfunctorily when reporting his suggestions to Ulquiorra. They got about four-fifths of all the required contracts in three hours. The second pause was asked aloud. Grimmjow stretched himself hard in his soft chair, glancing that Nnoitora stood up and strided away from their desk to the front door yawning quite sleepy.

His only eye was almost kept close when Nnoitora woozily made his way to the toliet. Unsurprisingly, he collided into someone just at the corner of the corridor whose forehead hit his collarbone tough and that ache drove the bad-tempered man cruse out.

"How can you fucking four-eyed sissy even use one of them to catch a sight of such big man...oh what the hell...!?"

"I feel sincerely sorry to knock a man without any eye, sir." that man declared in a moment with his clear, calm, callous voice-hearing which Nnoitora had himself totally sober up. Actually, his rage had fade over half away untill the pink-haired, elegant-looking man provoked him again. But by being sarcastic, it seemed that the offensive stranger reverted a reason to Nnoitora and induced him to free his impulsion of violence.

In no second did Nnoitora's fist impacted up to the other man's jaw. With a peal of sound announcing something got fragile, the smaller man fell down, knocking on the wall at his side and leading another clash.

It confused Nnoitora quite a bit however weak did the man prove to be as he believed not to have made full effort on that stroke. Otherwise, the man let out a groan so slight as if he was hurt really bad that it dramatically evoked guilty and tenderness of the trouble-maker.

So Nnoitora bent down to check what was going on. The pink-haired man was having one of his hand supporting his delicate jaw while the other hand hold on his white-rim glasses. He covered a part of his face and only exposed one of his cool-golden-colored eye through behind the glasses. It shone expressionlessly, but some kind deadly seducing. He blinked it once slowly before staring at the man in his front and asked, "would you make me compensation for my flawlessness, sir?"

It was a little too late for Nnoitora to recognize his own touch towards the pink-haired man's hand by grabbing it away with his long, tough fingers. However, what he found was a playful smile that hided silently behind. Clasping that man's wrist in hand, skin glued, he suddenly drew an absurd blank, after which he came to the idea that he was fooled.

"Well, don't get you judge angry once more, I beg. That would be over interesting." The pink-haired gave the speech as he had enjoyed himself enough. He got independent from the wall and then leaned to the jet-haired who turned to be frowned, murmuring "what...?"

"I guess you can see...I need the job, judge." he finally made it clear by whispering closely beneath the other's ear, as well as heated the man with a flirting kind of intimate breathe.

Nnoitora regained himself in less than a minute. With full confidence he grinned, "oh really? Well I'm not the decider...unless you fucking pinky prove more pleasing...er-hur?"

It happened that a romance-like kiss just dropped on his cheek, hardly doubtable to tell from whom. Meanwhile the very close, innocent voice sounded "by this...you dared mean?"

Fortunately or not, someone's rude but familiar steps broke out and killed the subtlety. It was Grimmjow who was unwillingly made to look for the absent assistant judge as pause time had been up. There were no any other people wandering around the corridor at that moment so that he caught sight of the two odd-postured men without effort. Almost immediately the just-arrived whistled, ready to marvel at his buddy's freshest affair.

But he swallowed down and shouted, "how can you bastard still here having fun chasing your bitch, Nnoi? Ulqui should have fired you if not flying back in one-ten second you dude!"

Listening to him the pink-haired male model raised his face and smiled in a sly way. As the taller jet-haired stood up hurriedly, he found his arm in the other's unaffectedly as if it was supposed to act like that. Following kicked by a hard toe, Nnoitora heard his self-assertive company snuggling walked ahead bleating "all right. Let's get in then, Nnoi."

Indeed, Nnoitora felt even more betrayed as the pinky calling his name. "MOVIE KING BITCH." he spat lowly only enough for his close side. However, he submitted to returning to the hall together with his called-unknown "sweetheart", whom he eagered for fucking nice at the very moment to revenge all back.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: This chapter for transition, so shorter than its former XD. Isn't the plot flowing a little too slow?

* * *

To Szayel, Nnoitora firstly appeared not that kind of handsome while somehow really charming. Once entering the room, he lost his attentions all to the jet-haired, flanky but strong-looking man who was chatting quite loud. That guy had a tough, thin face with left-eye covered by a patch. His only narrowed right-eye randomly glancing around kept loaf instead of friendliness inside. That might be a man to easily interest and benefit from.

It didn't take Szayel long to make his perfect plan after observing the three judges seated at the other end of the tiresome hall. However, there were too many competitors and therefore in no way could everyone share equitable chances. Szayel became so aware of the dim prospect that he had to manage things in his control-out of any risks. His challenge laid such plain to be tricked-that he was actually not a professional model while in need of the rich paying from this short-term job. He could get his work honestly and even perfectly-only if allowed playing necessary innocuous dealings.

Szayel assessed it handiest way to approach his goal by hunting a shallow potentiate. He picked Nnoitora as a result and so far had things gone absolutely well in expectation. Along with the remarkable tall man, Szayel reached smoothly to the front desk and got his craft opportunity to place his file piece upon the top of all other stacks. The shortest but most rigid-looking man of the three judges didn't prevent that. On the contrary, he took it over and started typing in the identifier to shift out the corresponding e-documents, just after shooting a glance at the jet-haired, mouth-twitching man on his right-side.

"Your name has been registered as Szayel.G, which is not an official name right? If so, Mr.G, we will not able to access a bank account to send your payment afterwards." staring at the rolling screen with no sight around said Ulquiorra sternly.

"It doesn't matter. I guess I would like to take it in cash if permitted." smiled the pink-haired model modestly.

"Don't be that fucking verbose. Why not get to your catwalk, pinky? " Nnoitora interrupted the two diplomatists impatiently. Grimmjow winked at him, grinning, and got another sneer.

As the male model walked apart to the runway, Nnoitora sat down again on his chair. Unconsciously he grabbed something among his free fingers, which turned to be a pencil. He scratched his jaw slowly with it when the model catwalked near down. Even had he not taken off his wind coat, the man just walked straightly in an abstinent, solemn style.

"Yum...it's not sexy..." murmured Nnoitora. But he yelled out as soon as he caught sight of Ulquiorra being to mark a red cross at the top of Szayel's file paper, "hey WAIT you facioplegia!"

The main interviewer turned to him without looking displeasure. "Wasn't you mean that, Mr Gilga?"

"Well..." as Nnoitora dropped the pencil off, he stuck his eye to the standing-on model at the end of the runway. But he struggled to give out more words after that. "wellwell, you can describe him some kind of morbid beauty. That's fucking ridiculous however...and yum..."

"Do you think his performance will match any show on Fashion Week, Mr Gilga?" pointed out Ulquiorra sharply, accompany with Grimmjow's inappropriate chortles. "it will not ruin the whole Week, Nnoi. Just say you bastard want as this morning! Haha...you may find them not as different as you thought in no more than one damn date, I promise. But you can have fun before recognizing this smartly, hahaha!"

"Shut up, Jeagerjaques." Ulquiorra announced as the model came back. He left the decision to Nnoitora for Grimmjow's balderdash sounded just reasonable. While Szayel was approaching, Nnoitora lost his interests in that piece of paper. What he saw was the pink-haired man smiling mildly but exactly towards him.

And then the other two interviewers heard Nnoitora's husky voice giving an nounce, "damn it...just KICK HIM PASS."

That was a pleasing come-out and set-foreword for continuing according to Szayel's plan. Although it was nothing cheerful indeed for him to succeed in distinguishing himself from amount of similar-or-not-appearing male models. He never got crazy about acting as a model. However, he had to stay until the intensifying-chaotic audition met its terribly disordered ending, after which he received his contract and schedules of routine preparation for the following three-quarter month.

It was some kind of surprising for him to find that Nnoitora would be playing a role as the fitting coach for the total twenty pre-hired male models. And they were going to get trained in the gym each other day till the Fashion Week exactly put on its play.


End file.
